


When in Russia

by nolongeralostswan (Annewrites)



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Crossover Pairings, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-15
Updated: 2014-08-15
Packaged: 2018-02-13 05:16:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2138397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annewrites/pseuds/nolongeralostswan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Killian and Emma, expert thieves in the employ of notorious crime boss, Mr. Gold, are working a mission in Moscow when they run into Team Arrow, who are scrambling to win back Queen Consolidated. Maybe the two couples could knock some sense into the other… A story in which unresolved sexual tension abounds, there’s an assassin calling herself the Snow Queen, and Digg is simply at a loss. Set after Season 2.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

“ _Damn it_ , Swan.”

Killian swore under his breath, the steam of the words fogging the air. His and Swan’s car was little better than a scrap heap and there was absolutely nothing close to a heater in it. Russia’s chill had settled in his bones within minutes of stepping outside. Unsurprisingly, waiting inside a parked car was doing nothing for the cold.

“Where the bloody hell are you?”

He was so tired – he hadn’t slept for two days straight and the Americanos he and Swan religiously drank together no longer seemed to have any effect. The drink sat ignored in the cup holder, lukewarm and acrid with the smell of espresso.

It had also been twenty buggering minutes since Swan had promised she’d be back and even though he was loathe to admit it, Killian was starting to worry. Emma Swan was considered one of the best in Mr. Gold’s employ for a reason: she was thorough, calculated - but most importantly - fast. She could get in and out of places, with the required materials needed, in less than ten minutes. And those, she would often remind him, delightful smirk across her mouth, were her “off” days.

Twenty minutes late on a “five minute tops” job – as she’d deemed it – was not only rare but incredibly troubling. Something must have happened to her. Killian craned his neck behind him to peer into the alleyway, but no looming shapes were discernible in the darkness. He could only imagine Gold’s wrath if he broke the news that this trip had cost him one of his best “procurers”. But there was more to it than that, he knew, even though this knowledge he kept to himself. Swan was a good partner, albeit a stubborn and annoying one.

His door opened behind him then, a hand shooting forward into the car to grab him by the neck. Forcibly wrenched from the seat, he landed on his back, the pavement underneath unforgivably cold. Wincing in pain, he ground out, “Could’ve just knocked on my door, mate.”

His attacker laughed under his breath as he stepped out of the shadows and Killian couldn’t believe his misfortune. The green hood was unmistakable.

“Bit far from home, aren’t you?”

The Arrow said nothing and Killian tried to think of a way out of his predicament, glancing sharply down the street for any sign of an escape. The green hood turned along with him, smiling blandly at the idea.

“You wouldn’t get very far,” he commented drily, his voice odd and modulated. Killian was certain it wasn’t his.

“Then you might as well tell me what the hell it is you want,” he said testily, glaring at the Arrow as he brushed dirt from his damp jeans. The man was imposing, he’d grant him that, especially since he didn’t seem to find it fitting to say much of anything. They stared at one another for a good minute, sizing the other up, Killian supposed – and he quickly realized just how badly he would lose if he were to engage him in a fight.

Finally, the Arrow spoke. “I need information on Queen Consolidated.” He paused, as if considering whether or not he wished to continue. “Preferably damning information. And I’ve heard you and your partner are good at finding things like that.”

Killian whistled through his teeth, running a hand along the back of his neck. “You want me to dig up information - bad information, at that - against your own company?”

His expression remained blank. Rolling his eyes, Killian attempted another avenue. “I’ve heard members of your team are quite skilled at “finding things”. Seems uncharacteristic of someone so…” - he swept his hand back and forth, considering the best word for the Arrow - “ _cautious_ to outsource.”

The hood snapped up and Killian saw something akin to protectiveness and awe flash in the man’s eyes. Odd combination of emotions, he noted.

“We’re in need of someone more hands-on.”

_There’s a woman involved and he doesn’t want to put her in the line of fire._ He could practically hear Swan profiling beside him, and he knew in his heart that the observation was correct. Whoever the Arrow was protecting obviously meant a great deal to him. Scratching the back of his neck, Killian stared off into the dimness of the alleyway. Gold had paid them to acquire information about an American diplomat with a penchant for Russian prostitutes and once Emma returned, they would be out of work until another useful political scandal came up. Information was power, and Gold often spun the knowledge into money. He certainly wouldn’t be opposed to acquiring sordid details on one of America’s most notorious family’s; the Queen’s could come in handy.

_Goddamnit, Swan, get back here._

“And why should I be interested in helping you?”

His answer was simple. “I know where to find your partner.”

Well, then.

* * *

 

 

Emma’s wrists chafed against the rope and her head, cold and sore against the hard ground, was pounding. She opened her eyes and when the room stopped spinning long enough for her to focus on it, she didn’t see Killian anywhere. A knot of panic fluttered in her stomach and the thoughts in her head were a steady stream of profanity and fear. But fear wasn’t going to help her make a life-saving decision, though, if that’s what it came down to, and she snapped her brain to attention. She made quick work assessing her surroundings: concrete floors, cold as bloody ice; large open windows covered by plastic tarps; the lights from outside all artificial and from other buildings – she had to be several stories off the ground and judging by the construction equipment sitting on the left-most wall, in an abandoned section of the building. Easy place to off someone and never have anyone _know,_ she thought darkly.

Movement startled her; she only then realized that she was lying on her side, tied to a chair. Perfect, she thought, just fucking perfect. Shadows of footsteps passed outside the door and her heart beat a painful thrum in her ears and down in her chest. She breathed in and out, slowly, willing her body to calm down.

The door creaked open, but from Emma’s position on the floor, she couldn’t yet make out who it was. She saw high heels and nothing else. Against the backdrop of Russia’s winter wind, the noise they made against the floor reverberated in her head.

With mounting horror, Emma watched ice crack on the ground beneath each step the woman took. Impossible, she chanted in her head, even as she saw the ice crackle and then recede on the concrete. When she reached Emma, she knelt and cupped her face in her hand. Her hair, a striking silver blonde, was pulled into a high knot on the top of her head. She looked like some yuppie exec, resplendent in her pant suit and chilly smile. When Emma locked eyes with her, she noticed they were like chips of ice. She shivered and the woman squeezed the underside of her jaw, her fingers strangely, terrifyingly strong.

“You will find me the Arrow, Miss Swan, and you will bring him here in three days’ time.”

Anger flared in Emma’s chest, beating off the fright and terror. How dare this woman kidnap her and then make demands?

“Who the _fuck_ do you think are?”

The woman’s face was blank as she studied her and Emma had the rare feeling of being read like a book. No wonder Killian complained when she did it to him.

“Most people call me by my moniker, The Snow Queen. It’s been a very long time since I’ve been called anything else.”

Emma had no idea what to say to that.

“And what if I don’t help you?”

The woman smiled indifferently, and when she spoke, her voice was soft and distant, as though she were discussing the weather. “Then I kill your partner.”

Abruptly standing, she swept from the room, ignoring Emma’s protestations. She turned back to her just as she was approaching the doorway, as though she were an afterthought.

“I suppose you’ll be wanting out of here.”And with a careless flick of the wrist, Emma’s ropes shattered in crystals by her feet. “Do think about my offer, Miss Swan.”

Dumb with astonishment, Emma scrambled to her feet, but the woman had gone. The chill in the air was the only hint that she had been there at all.


	2. Chapter Two

Killian scrambled to keep alongside the Arrow, whose stride was unrelentingly fast. He hopped over gnarled fences and eight foot walls with the ease of a cat, leaving Killian to grapple with the obstacles on his own. More often than not, he wished for a grenade to blow his way through downtown Moscow.

“It’d be best for you to hurry,” said Queen, a smirk barely concealed under his hood.

“I could also shove my gun up your arse,” Killian grumbled, but quickened his step all the same. If the man knew where Swan was, he had little choice.

When they reached a derelict square of office buildings, Queen gestured up, toward the seventh or eighth floor. Squinting in both frustration and an attempt to see better, Killian was rewarded with the sight of Swan’s blue leather jacket, hanging outside an open window.

“What’s it tethered to? And why in hell would Swan leave her jacket off? It’s well below zero.”

Queen grimaced. “That’s her signature, or so I’ve heard.”

But Killian was already walking away from him, deaf to his words. He could think only of Swan, frozen on the ground in an abandoned building, and the lone promise they’d made to one another when they’d first met, years ago in an Irish pub. She hadn’t looked like a criminal, but then again, she’d had that sly smile and those searching eyes, green as the hills, and he knew she was dangerous.

“I’d rather not die alone,” was all she’d said to him, sipping primly on her dark beer – to better disguise how much she hated it, he figured – and Killian knew that Swan had been grateful he’d never asked why. He knew, of course – he’d known his whole life what it had been like to be alone – and he’d found nothing strange in her request.

“We’re partners, love. I don’t use that term lightly.”

And when she’d smiled at him afterward, he’d thought how much she resembled sunlight; her hair glimmered in the dimness of the pub and there was a brilliance in her face, a happiness in finding another lost soul.

“Killian!” Swan’s voice came tearing through the night as she shoved open the door, her clothes wrinkled and smudged. She flew into his arms with a ferocity he’d never seen in her before, whispering into his jacket words he could not understand.

“Slow down, Swan. You’ll give yourself a panic attack.” Through her clothes, he could feel that she was ice cold, as though she’d been touched by death.

Steadying herself, Swan leveled her gaze across the street and to Killian’s astonishment, started to laugh. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” she said breathlessly, laughter still bubbling on her lips. “Some insane bitch wants him,” she gestured toward the Arrow, who’d been watching the scene from the sidewalk. “And now here he is!” She said in a sing-song voice, bordering on the hysteric. “It’s all so _conveniently_ timed.” Swan’s glare could have roasted flesh, but both she and the Arrow were prevented from saying anything further, as a black van came careening down the street, tires screeching in the driver’s haste to brake. Killian wasn’t sure if he imagined it, but he was positive he saw Queen roll his eyes before the car came to a halt in front of him.

They heard the whir of the window rolling down and then a woman’s voice: “Sorry, Oliver, I’m still not quite used to this whole late night rendezvous car meet-up thing.”

* * *

 

The inside of the van was maddeningly silent. Felicity was gnawing on her lips to stop herself from talking; out of the corner of her eye, she watched as Oliver placed a hand on her shoulder, willing her to calm down. She knew he meant well, but his touch really wasn’t the cure for such an ailment. Normally it just made her heart bang so loudly against her chest, she was positive it would fly out.

“Where are we going?” asked the dark-haired man sitting next to John, his question seemingly flippant. He even smiled and surveyed the interior as though it were Buckingham Palace. “Awfully nice of you to give us a lift.”

“Killian,” hissed his companion, a striking blonde who, to Felicity’s dismay, had smiled at her as soon as she’d entered the van. _I certainly have a knack with the weird ones_.

“We’re going somewhere hidden,” Oliver said, both of his hands now in his lap. Felicity ignored the urge to reach over and hold one of them. _Your boss, for God’s sake. He is your boss._

“Ah,” said Killian. “How...descriptive.”

Felicity smiled despite herself. Oliver was often painfully short when it came to discussing plans, especially if he didn’t know exactly to whom he was speaking. She could practically him gritting his teeth and noticed he was fidgeting with his right hand. The man always seemed desperate for an arrow.

After several more moments of silence, Felicity was tiring of watching the lights of the city for company. She and Oliver and Diggle had been living in a converted warehouse since their exile from Starling – for Oliver seemed to have a penchant for those – and the city’s lights had heard their fair share of Felicity Smoak's rambling. Up until yesterday morning, she’d been unearthing any sort of dirt she could find on Queens Consolidated, when Oliver had simply asked her to stop. Considering how often Oliver did things alone, Felicity had argued the point, insisting that she and Digg weren’t here just to sew him back together. He’d given her “the look”, the one she’d coined in her head (and hopefully there it would remain) as the look you gave someone when you were about to scold them or kiss the living daylights out of them.

Felicity swerved slightly as she lurched herself out of a thought process that was quickly taking a much different path. All four of her passengers cursed; Oliver quirked an eyebrow at her but she determinedly stared at the road. She was about to say something about how much she’d like to learn how to figure skate, hoping it would take the attention off of her driving mishap, when Emma stood up angrily, throwing off the blanket John had given her for warmth.

“I’m sorry, but is no one going to mention how I was abducted by a fucking _ice princess_?”

She glared at everyone in the van, until John laughed incredulously under his breath. “Oh my God, Oliver, you’ve caught the attention of the Snow Queen?”

“She abducted _me_ , not him.” Emma interjected, sweeping her hands across the length of the van, as if she couldn’t quite make out what she was doing in it. “How would you know the two of them were connected?” Emma’s voice was dangerously low. Felicity watched from the rearview mirror as Killian shifted his eyes back and forth between John and Oliver.

“You’d be surprised how many people don’t like this guy,” said Digg, gesturing toward Oliver, who was pointedly staring out the window.

Killian snorted. “I’m sure it wouldn’t surprise _too_ many.”

“Snow Queen?” asked Felicity, disliking the tension. “Like the children’s fairytale?”

“Not exactly, although I’m sure she wouldn’t begrudge the comparison.” She was pleased to note Oliver was talking directly at her, instead of broodily glaring out at the city. “She’s an assassin, notorious for freezing her victims to death. What she wants with me, I honestly can’t say.”

Emma’s voice, when she spoke again, was curiously calm. Felicity could tell the woman was struggling to cap her anger.

“And may I ask _how_ she freezes these people?”

Oliver smiled blandly. “I would imagine you might already know the answer.”

* * *

 

 

“Can we trust them?” Emma was holding onto her cup of coffee as though it were anchoring her to this earth, staring fiercely at Killian. Killian had the makings of a trustworthy, reassuring face. It was one of the things Emma both loved and disliked; she often found herself caught up in his gaze before she’d deciphered whether or not he’d been telling the truth.

“At this point, Emma, I’m afraid we might not have much of a choice.”

Lowering her voice, Emma glanced over at Felicity and Oliver, who were huddled over a computer. “She wants me to bring her the Arrow.”

“And are you?”

“She said she’d kill you if I didn’t.” Emma tried to quell the tremor in her voice; Killian laid a hand over hers and smiled softly.

“I’m not going anywhere, love. You can count on that. Besides, I’d like to see her try and get past you. You’re vicious when you’re mad.”

Emma didn’t smile. “Killian, please keep an open mind when I say this. That woman, when she stepped into the room, the whole place became… freezing, absolutely freezing. The ground froze where she walked, ice cracked on the damn floor when she stepped on it. And when she untied my hands, she shattered the rope into ice before she disappeared. I swear to God, Killian, I’m not making any of this up.”

Killian was silent until Emma prodded him for an answer. “If what you say is true, then we’re definitely dealing with something that’s not within our level in expertise.”

“So we’ll need them?” Emma’s voice betrayed her reluctance.

Killian chuckled. “No need to sound so enthusiastic, love. They want our help as well.”

“For what? They’ve got far more equipment than we’ve ever had.”

“Lacking the street skills, I’m assuming.” He nodded at Felicity. “I’m willing to bet that girl’s never known the inside of a cop car, let alone the inside of a jail cell. She lacks experience – we don’t. And think of this: we help them, Gold then finds out we have dirt on the Queens, one of America’s most notorious families, he pays us double what he owes us and we go along our merry way.”

Emma shook his hand from hers. “And betray the people we’ve just helped? That’s cold even for you, Jones.”

“I just don’t like being indebted to anyone, is all.”

“So selling them out is your only alternative?”

Killian breathed in and out of his nose evenly. “Emma, just a moment ago you were convinced that Queen was in cahoots with that ice woman. Why defend them?”

“Because it doesn’t make sense. Why would she threaten to kill you if I didn’t give her the Arrow? If they’re working together, she’d have close access to him already. And the other two – “she gestured at Felicity and Diggle, who were laughing at Oliver’s inaccurate description of Twilight – “You really think that Queen could keep something like that from them? Especially that girl – she watches him like a hawk and she’s got access to all the cameras in the city. He’d never outfox her.”

Killian nodded his agreement, huffing in mock annoyance when Emma smirked in victory.

“We help them, Killian, and we’ll deal with Gold later. I’m not handling some fucking “Snow Queen” all by myself. And she sure as hell isn’t putting her hands on you.”

To her credit, Emma had never really imagined what it might be like without Killian. They’d worked together for over seven years now, their shared history as thieves and con artists linking the two before they’d even properly met. Once, as they’d sat shivering in an abandoned farm house in Vancouver, she’d even entertained the idea of them being soul mates, for who else would have followed her to this place and time? But it was a silly, childish notion, one that belonged in bedtime stories, and she’d pushed it away. Sometimes, though, Emma still found herself watching Killian tap away at the computer, scouting out clues, and was overcome by an emotion so strong she often had to leave the room. She hoped to God that ice bitch never discovered that piece of information.

* * *

 

She was accustomed to waiting. Years of testing could bring that out in a person, and she’d spent half of her life in the waiting rooms of hospitals or the back-alley laboratories of shady colleagues. She’d wanted a specialty and they had delivered one to her. Moscow’s skyline was always here to welcome her home: a misshapen fairytale city for an ugly fairytale villain. She smiled to herself. All she needed now was Swan. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End Notes: Sorry for all of the POV changes – hope they weren’t too jarring, but it’d be impossible to tell this story without a few switcharoos. As always, I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter and are eagerly awaiting the next! Let me know if you can think of anything you’d like to see – I’m open to suggestions!


End file.
